The Hardy Boys and the Skull's Head
by winterslily
Summary: Hardy Boys/Harry Potter Crossover - Frank and Joe travel to England to help their friend David with a mysterious case... and find some mysteries are much deeper than others.
1. Chapter 1 The Skull's Head

The Hardy Boys and the Skulls Head

By Winterslily

Chapter 1 – The Skull's Head

Stretching as far as the narrow airline foot room would allow, Frank Hardy rubbed at his eyes as he stared out of the window beside his seat and watched the darkness below and above, surrounding them in a cocoon of solitude. The airliner, flying from New York's Kennedy Airport to London's Heathrow, was about halfway through a nine-hour flight and, for Frank who had the beginnings of a headache, it couldn't happen too soon. The tall, dark-haired young man stared over at the seat next to him where his brother sat. Blonde-haired Joe was leaning aback, mouth half open and snoring gently as he slept. Frank sighed, wishing he had the ability to fall asleep anywhere like that. Joe could – and had – slept just about anywhere.

Turning his attention back to his paperwork, Frank sighed again as he peered out the window, thinking of the phone call he had received from his friend, David Pembroke, now a rookie with Scotland Yard in the United Kingdom. Frank remembered fondly their meeting – namely at a chess camp when Frank was fourteen and David was sixteen. They got on right away, sharing one of the small rooms at the camp and talking over many games of chess played. It was the first time Frank was away from home – or rather away from Joe – and it was nice to meet someone right away who could sort of fill the void left by Joe's absence.

They kept in touch via email after leaving camp and even visited together twice – once when Frank was in London with his father on a case and once when David was visiting the States on vacation. David knew that Frank and Joe loved solving mysteries – either on their own or with their private detective father, Fenton Hardy; it was why Frank now sat on an airplane, waiting impatiently for the trip to end and the mystery to begin. David sounded anxious on the phone when he called, begging Frank and Joe to come over and help him.

"I'm not getting any help at all from the higher-ups. They think I've gone starkers, Frank – and I haven't! I know there's a pattern here, something going on but even the people who signed off on the initial reports remember nothing – or claim to remember nothing – about the events that happened! It's either a major cover-up or something more sinister is going on. That's why I called you guys to see if you can help. There's something going on here and you're the best, right?"

Frank had demurred and said they did what they could but he didn't know about being the best, despite their reputation of being tough crime-fighters. David sent him an envelope via express mail only the next day and Frank and Joe poured over the information within, both reports and photographs that hearkened something dark and very ominous.

Frank stared at the pictures now. The most threatening was the odd skull and snake feature – a skulls head with a snake coming out of the mouth. The whole thing was a sort of odd green color, almost glowing and positioned on a wall over the heads of three victims, a man, woman and young girl. The two adults looked peaceful and calm, as if they died in their sleep. The little girl's face was fixed in pain and agony and terror, eyes still wide as if she died of fear – or pain? There were no visible wounds on her that he could see in the pictures provided, just that expression of pain.

It wasn't the only picture like that. There were at least six others with the same skull and snake motif and victims – all dead – many with that peaceful expression and many with that same stark terror and pain written on their faces. A few were lashed obviously and one scene was bloody, as if someone took great pleasure in cutting up their victims of the crime.

"Gruesome," Joe said softly from Frank's left and Frank looked up in shock at his brother, then calmed again. "I mean, look at it. Who could do that kind of thing? If it weren't for that skull thing, I'd think that was a different killer – why change their method so suddenly like that?"

Frank shrugged, keeping his voice low so as not to disturb the passengers sleeping around them. "No idea. Like I said before, this doesn't make sense. If there are serial killers out there, why hasn't it made the papers or the news? You would think they'd want people to do everything they can to stay safe; instead it's getting covered up and hidden!"

"David's right," Joe said. "There's something fishy going on; we just have to figure out what it is and why. What if there are scenes they haven't even found yet? Especially if different police stations are covering it?"

Frank nodded in agreement. "We'll ask David when we get to London. What do you think that skull and snake represent? A cult? One killer or several working together? And how is it these people are dead? Poison?"

Joe shrugged. "We covered all this in Bayport. We won't know until we get to London. Why don't you try to sleep?"

"You know I can't sleep on planes," Frank retorted as he leaned back in his seat again. "Stupid planes."

Joe laughed and settled back; he was snoring before Frank had the pictures put away.

"Terra firma," Frank sighed with happiness as he stepped off of the gateway and looked around the terminal. "Thank goodness."

He was about to say something else when he heard a voice calling his name and he turned to see David walking toward them, Scotland Yard ID flapping off the front of his long rain jacket.

"David!" Frank said. "Good to see you."

"Hi, Frank," David said. "Good to be seen. Joe. How are you?"

"In one piece," Joe grinned. "Come on, let's go get our bags. Is it raining again?"

"Of course," David laughed. "You expected good weather?"

"Hoped," Joe stated calmly. "Hoped for good weather. Bayport is right in the middle of 'if you don't like the weather, wait a minute' season. We had snow last week, sunshine and 80s through the weekend and yesterday and today it rained and was about 50."

"Well, we've got one better then," David led the way to the baggage claim. "Rainy and rainy. You can pretty much bet the bank on it."

Joe snickered knowingly. "Okay. Rainy and Rainy is it?"

"T'is," agreed David. "T'is indeed."

They gathered their bags from the baggage claim and followed David out to the parking lot and climbing into a small Toyota. Frank claimed the passenger side front seat since he was a full inch taller than his younger brother and deserved more legroom. David, at a mere five foot seven, moved his seat up a bit, allowing Joe a bit more legroom and started forward.

"We had another one last night," David said. "Joe, can you hand up that envelope in the back? I shouldn't have these pictures but once again I asked around this morning about this and nobody would say anything – and when I showed the Inspector in charge the pictures he asked me if this was an elaborate April Fools Joke two months late? I told him he was the one that signed off on the reports and he claimed to have done no such thing. In fact, he threw the whole lot into the rubbish bin and told me not to bother him again!"

Frank frowned. "He destroyed evidence?"

"Yeah," David turned on his blinker. "He did. I got this out later, after he left for the night, just before the cleaners took the rubbish out. There's a bit more on this one. Look."

Frank went through the pictures and stopped when he got one that had words on it, printed words.

"_Give Harry Potter to me or more muggles will die. Lord Voldemort commands it_!" Frank read out loud. "Who is Harry Potter?"

David shrugged. "No idea," he said. "But whomever he is… well, he's obviously in big trouble."

"And what is a Lord Voldemort? Is he for real? You think he's your serial killer?" Joe asked the British officer as he peered over at the pictures Frank held in his hands. Another family, this one with five people – all dead.

"The best I can tell, he's a terrorist," David said. "I found references to him from the 70s, back then they were having the same problems but nobody ever solved those crimes that I know of. Instead the crime spree just stopped – and now it's started again. There weren't any notes found at any of the crime scenes in the 70s, however, and definitely nothing about a Harry Potter."

Frank frowned again, thinking as he studied the picture in front of him.

"Well," he said softly. "I think maybe that's our first two things we should do. Figure out who Harry Potter is – and who Lord Voldemort is. Hopefully we can get our answers from there and get you some definite proof to bring to your bosses."

"You guys mind staying with me?" David asked. "My flat's not that big but I have a guest room with two twin beds, if that's okay."

"Sure," Frank agreed. "Sounds fine to me."

"Me too," Joe nodded.

"Good," David relaxed back in his seat slightly and Frank peered at the note again.

_Give Harry Potter to me more muggles will die_, he thought and, on that, he had another thought.

"David?" he asked. "What in the world is a muggle?"


	2. Chapter 2 Ponderances

Disclaimer: Nope, nope, nope. I don't own Harry Potter. I didn't invent him or his Universe. I do, however, enjoy a good dabble every so often and promise I will return him when I'm done playing with him. I don't own the Hardy Boys either, darn it! All the good ones are already taken have you noticed that? I'll return them as well… when I'm done…

ODE TO THE LINE ODE TO THE LINE ODE TO THE LINE ODE TO THE LINE ODE

Chapter 2 – Ponderances

Frank stretched as he woke up the next morning and regarded the small, round, alarm clock that sat on the small table between his bed and Joe's. The time read 8 am; Frank grinned, glad that he had managed to survive the Jet Lag bug that usually bit when he traveled overseas. The dark-haired boy sat up and looked over at his brother; Joe lay on his back, arms flayed out to other side, mouth open and a single line of drool running out of his mouth. Frank grinned as he stood and debated tossing a pillow at Joe – or taking a picture. Doing neither, instead he went across the hall to the bathroom.

_Frank and Joe,_

_Had to go to work. I'll be home at 4 pm. Left the evidence. I'll see if I can find out anything else on this Harry Potter person. I figure he has to be in his 30s or 40s – or even older – if he was involved in the case in the 70s. I'll let you know what I find out. _

_I left food in the fridge, you'll have to do your own cooking! There's also some pubs down the street if you go right out of the flat._

_Call if you need me. Number's by the phone._

_-David_

The note was sitting on the mirror of the room. Frank left it so Joe could find it whenever he got up and took his shower and dressed.

Frank was plugging away on his laptop when Joe finally got up and wandered out, looking disheveled and sleepy. Rubbing at his blue eyes he settled into a seat and propped his head on his hands while staring balefully at Frank.

"Good morning, sunshine!" Frank chirped cheerfully.

"Oh shut up," Joe muttered. "I can't stand it when you're perky in the morning. Where's David?"

"Work," Frank commented. "So far, I haven't found a thing on the Internet about muggles though there's, oh, several hundred Harry Potter's in the world. There's no way to narrow down which Harry Potter we're looking for unless we can get some more information on this case."

"Do you have a victim list?" Joe asked as he got up to get the leftover eggs from the stove and popped some bread into the toaster. "Maybe we can narrow things that way."

"There's a tentative list," Frank said. "They weren't overly sure what was actually because of Voldemort and what was because of other acts of violence. The deaths are all… strange. The cuttings, from what was determined during the short time forensics could process their victims, didn't seem to come from any kind of knife or blade that they could determine; the cuts were very clean."

Joe frowned as he nibbled on his eggs and rescued his toast. "So they didn't have enough time to process everything. Why didn't they finish?"

"It's strange," Frank said. "It's like they started on it and then just forgot to do anything else. There are no orders to cease investigation, there just isn't anymore investigation. It happened in more than one case, too. If David hadn't saved what he found, I daresay even what we have would have been destroyed, even if his supervisor hadn't thrown it all away that day."

Joe's eyes widened slightly. "Do you think there's wide-scale corruption then?" he asked in shock. "That the people in charge are working for – or in collusion with – this guy… this so-called Lord Voldemort?"

Frank considered this as he got up to wash the dishes they used and allowed his mind to mull over the possibilities. "I'm not sure," he continued to put the dishes away after drying them. "It's possible but… to have corruption going that high; you would think other agencies in Britain would notice. I don't know what else it could be, though."

"Let me get a shower, then I'll be back to help brainstorm some more. Maybe we can hit a library and look things up in a newspaper," Joe bounded to his feet and disappeared into the bathroom, leaving Frank to sit back down at the computer. Frank went slowly through the latest London Times and saved screens that held suspicious deaths of any kind, especially any that might mention a skull in the neighborhood. He found no skulls; he did, however, find a notice, in Crawley, of six people who had been killed under suspicious circumstances and that the 'deaths were still being investigated.'

He wrote down more notes as he tried to collect his thoughts.

"I. Mysterious Deaths

No visible sign of cause of death.

Victims killed by cutting with no visible patterns.

Victims killed – by fear? Extreme pain?

II. SkullsHead

A Cult symbol?

A symbol used to invoke fear in victims?

A symbol used to as a personal mark of this so-called Lord Voldemort?

III. Evidence

Cover-up by the command of Scotland Yard?

Some other reason for lack of evidence and/or investigation in deaths?

IV. Harry Potter

Who is he?

Where and how do we find him?

How is he involved with Lord Voldemort?

Was he involved in the events of the past, perhaps the reason why attacks stopped in the past?

Will he help?

Is he alive?

Why does Lord Voldemort want him personally?

V. Lord Voldemort

A) Megalomaniac?

B) Serial Killer?

C) Cult Leader?

Frank sat back and studied his list for a few moments before going to finish get ready. He met Joe at the front door and, after checking the phone book, went to catch a cab to the nearest library.

ODE TO THE LINE ODE TO THE LINE ODE TO THE LINE ODE TO THE LINE ODE

_I hate it here,_ a dark-haired boy lying on a narrow bed in a small room in the town of Little Whinging thought as he stared up at the uninteresting ceiling overhead and yawned. _I hate it here. Big time._

Harry Potter, nearly sixteen years of age, sighed as he sat up again and began to pace. He wished he could go outside. He wished he could just, maybe, run away. He wished he could do anything but stay in this small, boring, room with its small boring window in this small boring town. For a few moments he rather wished his Aunt would assign him the usual sheet of chores to do just to keep busy.

_So I don't have to think about Sirius,_ he admitted with a sigh_. Or mum and dad. Or Cedric. Or the hundreds of other people who are being killed by that bastard every day!_

He looked up with happiness when he saw his white owl, Hedwig, at the window and he reached out to open it and to let her into the room. Hedwig lighted on the bed and stuck out her foot while Harry handed her an owl treat and then removed the note tied to her leg.

As Hedwig nibbled on her treat and drank from her water dish, Harry unrolled the parchment letter and read,

"_Dear Harry,_

_I just wanted to write you to see how you are doing. I've spent the better part of the last month trying to work up the courage to say anything to you or, better yet, to say the right thing to you. I wasn't sure if you would want to talk about Sirius, or the Department of Mysteries, or any of that with me. Sirius wasn't my godfather but I feel his loss too, for your sake more than anything else._

_I know you never got a chance to know him as well as you wanted, or as well as you both deserved. It seems so wrong and unfair that, once you found someone who could truly be counted as family, someone who cared for you as Harry and not as the-Boy-Who-Lived that you should lose him so fast. I know I don't have to tell you how unfair it was that he was locked away for 12 years without a trial (what kind of justice system is that anyway, I want to know?) and then had to spend the next three years on the run or locked away in a house we all know he hated._

_Oh, Harry! I wish I could be with you now just to let you know that you aren't alone. You always lose people. Your parents, killed by Voldemort. Your Godfather. How many more will we lose before it's all said and done? WHY do you have to be the one who has to pay so big a price for something that was not your fault?_

_I want you to know you are always in my thoughts, Harry. You're a brave, loyal and wonderful friend. I was honored to follow you to the DoM and, while I wish I could have done more to help you, I was honored to be able to fight at your side. _

_I trust – and hope – that you aren't wallowing in blaming yourself for anything that happened that night. Remember, we followed you. Ron, Neville, Luna, Ginny and I made our own choices that night – and so did Sirius and the rest. Don't shoulder blame that is not yours to shoulder. Let it rest right where it belongs – with Voldemort and Bellatrix LeStrange and Death Eaters there that night. _

_I wanted to tell you, too, that I'll always will be here for you if you ever need me. Just let me know and I'm there._

_You're a great wizard, Harry Potter. One of the very best in the whole world. I'm so glad to be best friends with you._

_Love,_

_Hermione_

Harry leaned back and sighed, content. Hermione could cheer him up as no one else could, not even their mutual best friend, Ron Weasley. Ron was great for laughter and games but Hermione was what he needed for control and… other stuff… stuff he wasn't quite ready to admit to himself yet.

_Coward,_ he reproached himself. _Are you a Gryffindor or not?_

_Not,_ he decided_. At least… not at the moment._

"BOY!" he heard from downstairs. Sighing he put the letter from Hermione into his school trunk and opened the door to his room. "Get down here right now!"

His aunt sounded perturbed about something. With a sigh Harry thought _'some things never change'_ and went downstairs to see what she wanted.


End file.
